You Are Me
by NightFuryofGallifrey
Summary: Surrounded by a haze of green, a figure knelt with a gold scepter in his hand, his head bowed. Loki caught his breath. The green eyes were sunken, and glinted with a dark, hard edge. But he knew that face. That face was his. One-shot, Pre-Thor.


**A/N:** So I would apologize for all the Loki I've been writing lately, but I have been told not to apologize apparently. This takes place Pre-Thor, as will soon become obvious.

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**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Loki, or any of the other characters mentioned/used. Although I certainly write them enough that you might think I did...

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In the battle to keep his eyes open and stay awake, Loki was losing quickly.

_Just a little while longer, then I'll have it_, he told himself. He passed a hand over his eyes then turned the page of the heavy book, the runes inscribed there blurring and seeming to spin.

Loki scowled, clenching the edge of the desk. "Stay. Awake," he hissed, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He had been working on this spell for so long, he _had_ to know if it worked…

Suddenly, a flash of green smoke appeared in front of the bookshelf the other side of the desk. Loki started, sitting straight up, his eyes widening as a sudden burst of cold air flooded the library, rustling pages of open books and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

His mouth parted and a chill shot down his spine.

_It worked?_

Loki slid back his chair, rising slowly and gripping the edge of the desk to hold himself up.

On the other side of the desk, surrounded by a haze of green, a figure knelt with a gold scepter in his hand, his head bowed. His black hair hung in front of his face, and as he raised his head slowly, Loki caught his breath.

The green eyes were sunken, and glinted with a dark, hard edge. But he knew that face.

That face was his.

The other version of himself turned his head slightly, examining his surroundings. The dark gaze settled on Loki, and a flicker of surprise went through his expression, followed by the smallest quirk of his lips, forming an eerie smile.

"So it did work after all," the other Loki said softly, his voice carrying a slight hoarseness.

Loki swallowed, suddenly having second thoughts about how good of an idea this spell had been. He knew he could end it with a wave of his hand, but he held back. "You… you are me," he stated, though a tremor of disbelief somehow managed to work its way into his voice.

The other Loki let out a harsh, breathy laugh, his lips curling back into a smile that looked more like a sneer. "Oh, I wouldn't say that exactly." He rose to his full height, the expression on his face a bitter pride, though his stance betrayed a slight physical weakness. "If I recall correctly, Odin has just declared Thor is to be his successor." His harsh voice dripped with distaste.

Loki tightened his grip on the desk. "Yes."

"Then we are still very different." An expression Loki didn't like flickered through those pale green eyes. "You are still the Odinson, the second prince of Asgard. You still grovel at the feat of your father, seeking for his approval, only to be ignored." His voice had grown in harshness, and his hand clenched tighter around his scepter, as though he sought to strangle it. "Still, even though he has finally stopped denying he plays favourites by making that boorish oaf _king_, _still_ you search for your impossible chance to be 'the worthy son'."

Loki's chest was tight and it was only with great effort he managed to keep his voice clear, "If you are none of that, what are you?"

Again, the dark, harsh laugh. "I could tell you. But I wouldn't want to spoil all those surprises you have ahead of you." A malicious look came into his eyes. "Because there are _so _many of those coming."

Loki's own look was hard, and he was careful not to let the unease he now felt show. "Does Thor become king?" was all he asked, his voice flat.

His other self titled his head to the side, a dark smile still playing over his dry, cracked lips. "That's why you summoned me." The words weren't a question. He leaned forward, the green haze still swirling around him. "Let me give you a better answer. Whether or not he becomes king is not the issue. You will still be the second best, the least loved, the unaccepted. Everything you want, everything you _deserve_," The words were harsh, and he practically spit them out, "Will be taken from you at the hand of your precious _brother_. He will not only take what should have been yours, he will take any chance of acceptance or approval, he will take your mother's love that you cherish so much away from you. He will cast you out into the darkness so much like the shadow he always lorded over you—"

Loki suddenly waved his hand, slicing through the image in front of him, his breath coming in short, tight shudders.

The image of himself flickered, and the dark smile only grew wider. "You can't run from it," he hissed. "You are a _monster_ and you will never belong…" And he laughed, the green mist shrouding his face before vanishing all together with a sudden flash, sucking the cold air out with it and leaving the air suddenly thick.

Loki sank back into his chair, his eyes wide and throat tight. He took a shuddering gasp of air, then with a sudden movement that was nearly vicious, slammed the open book in front of him closed, snatching a second one from near the edge of the desk.

He flipped through the pages with a near frantic edge to his motions, stopping when he found what he was looking for. He ran his fingers down the slightly raised runes on the pages, his eyes wide as he murmured the forgetting spell…

"Loki?"

Loki opened his eyes, blinking as he slowly raised his head up from where it lay on the desk in front of him. "Mother?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Frigga stopped beside him, placing a hand on his hunched over back and smiled. "You should have gone to bed," she chided gently. "All your studies will do you no good if you are too weary to act on them."

Loki passed a hand over his eyes, slowly sitting up. "I was _going_ to go to sleep," he mumbled.

"Oh, it looks like you did," Frigga teased, laughing softly.

Loki quirked a smile, pushing aside the book in front of him. "I suppose I did."

"What were you working on?" His mother asked, her gaze flickering over the assorted parchments and heavy tomes scattered about the desk's surface.

Loki shook his head, rising from the chair and taking his mother's arm as he smiled. "It does not matter. It didn't work."


End file.
